My young son ran to me, crying. “Daddy, I stubbed my toe,” he sobbed.
“Let me kiss it and make it better,” I said. “Which toe was it?”
“The one that has no roast beef.”
My young son ran to me, crying. “Daddy, I stubbed my toe,” he sobbed.
“Let me kiss it and make it better,” I said. “Which toe was it?”
“The one that has no roast beef.”